The Scare
1056 Words
"Teresa don't go, you're still needed"
Looking around, she saw a burning field, screams carried by the wind and wolves with glowing eyes like diamonds and bloodied teeth. She ran barefoot, her heart glowing with green fire.
"Teresa no!!!!"
Seeing the large howling wolf lunging at her, she hesitated, seeing something human in him, something recognizable.
Just before making a choice she woke up
………………
Velgrave town had always been mysterious with a serene environment. Nestled between shadowed hills, fogged mountains and dense pine forests.It embodied silence like a secret, hanging beneath in the mystical mist. Aerin had grown accustomed to it over the dreadful years: the avoidance of eye contact at dusk, the hushed and strange voices in the marketplace and the avoidance of mentioning the full moon unless it was definitely necessary.
However, tonight, the quiet felt different as if something had changed abruptly.
Aerin woke up gasping for breath, heart racing, soaked in sweat, confused. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She wasn't just afraid. She felt threatened. Her bedroom was dark, lit only by fainting lamps penetrating through the curtains. She sat up and massaged her wrist, feeling something ancient had crawled into her skin and claimed it as home.
And then. There it lied.
A small mark, sharp and glowing. A crescent moon engraved on the skin of her delicate wrist, like it had been marked there. The sides of the scar were glowing as if it was warm.
"What in the world..." she murmured perplexedly, gently outlining it with her cold fingers. Her fingers shook as she touched it.
It wasn't a scar she recognized. And it hadn’t been there the day before. She stayed silent for a while contemplating on the strange mark that appeared on her skin.
Was she still dreaming? Was she crazy? Or... was something awakening inside her?
Afterwards, she got up, slightly trembling as she walked to the mirror above her dresser and stared at the mirror with her sea-blue eyes which gave her a mysterious look. Her reflection was wild, confused, and fierce. Dark strands of hair stuck to her forehead, and she could hear her heart throb.
She didn't look like someone going insane.
But the strange scar made her feel so.
She paced her room, trying to understand her dream, the mark, the familiar feeling that still throbbed in her chest. There was a pressure in her head, like a memory trying to surface, but it slipped away whenever she tried to grasp it.
With a sigh of frustration, she wrapped her wrist in a bandage and put on her blue coat.
---
Later that morning, life continued as usual. Rain fell on the paving stones on the streets, the scent of wet pine, leaves and fresh earth wafting through the mist. Aerin tightened her coat as she entered the old bookstore where she worked—a decrepit building named “Whispers & Ink,” nestled between an antique store and an herbalist’s shop.
The bookstore always smelled of lavender, dust, and forgotten pages. It was a peaceful escape from the world, her abode, a place where she could lose herself in stories that weren’t her own.
It was a place where she found solace in, where she express her worries.
But certainly not today. She needed answers to her unending questions. Her thoughts were like puzzle pieces.
As she pushed open the creaky backroom door to restock old inventory, something caught her eye. A floorboard near the far wall seemed slightly raised—just a small gap, hardly noticeable.
Intrigued by it, she knelt down and pried it open with a metal ruler.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Inside was a weathered, leather-bound journal, adorned with strange symbols, swirls and, runes which gave it an archaic outlook. The leather was cracked, it's edges softened by time.The pages inside smelt of old ink and scent of ashes and flowers. And then… the same crescent moon that was etched into her wrist was carved on the front covering of the journal.
She stared at it, unmoving, then picked it up. Her fingers tingled as if the book was vibrating beneath her touch.
She flipped to the first page. The words were in a language she couldn’t identify. And yet… she could understand them. She found this strange but continued to read it.
"To the one reborn,
The past does not forget.
Neither should you". This, she read out.
Aerin slammed the journal shut, breathing heavily.
"What's wrong with me?" she whispered.
She kept it to herself—not that there was anyone to confide in. Her parents were absent, and Velgrave wasn’t the type of town where you discussed mysterious marks or journals written in unknown languages. People would nod politely and avoid you for weeks.
Yet, the dreams occured that night.
But this time, they were clearer.
She found herself in a forest, barefoot and cloaked in a crimson robe. Flames danced around her hands, and the trees murmured her name. The wolf reappeared—gray-furred, eyes like silver. This time, he didn’t attack. He simply stood there, watching. Waiting.
Aerin approached. Her fingers shook as she reached out.
And then she heard it: a name, whispered in a voice that seemed both a warning and a plea.
“Kyre…”
The name sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t know how she knew it. But it felt ancient. Intimate. Like it once held a sacred meaning.
She spoke it aloud in the darkness of her room.
"Kyre..." The name carried mystery and answers to her questions.
Far from Velgrave, in the eerie expanse of the ancient forest, something happened.
Kyre’s eyes flew open. The pull had intensified. He felt it in his bones—in the sharp pain of the curse twisting through his mind. Each moon brought him closer to madness. Some nights, he could barely recall his own name. But tonight… he sensed her. After past years of searching for her.
He felt he was closer to his redemption .
The feeling was deep and feelings strong.
He could sense it, and with each step he drew closer to her, it becomes stronger.
She was finally awake.
She was near.
And she was the one he had been waiting for.
For so so long, she was finally here.
- Writer
